


Tired: Another Word For Worried

by Dr_Cat



Series: Like Minded [10]
Category: Knight Rider (1982)
Genre: Kidnapping, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:15:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23862145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Cat/pseuds/Dr_Cat
Summary: Sometimes crimefighting can be exhausting.
Series: Like Minded [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642711
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Tired: Another Word For Worried

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Knight Rider or the respected characters mentioned in this story. They are copyrighted to NBC/Universal.

"I believe the word your searching for is tired, Michael," I supplied drolly as I watched my partner execute another all-encompassing yawn. Once he finally quailed his body's desperate attempt at gaining more oxygen, he looked to my voice modulator with nothing short of scorn.

"No! It's not and will you give it a rest already," he said with an irritated edge I chose to ignore. The man has been running thirty-six hours straight without proper sleep and still has enough chutzpah to fight me on the matter.

"I'll give it a rest when you decide to do so. Michael, you haven't slept in days. My research tells me even missing sleep over a short period of time can cause forgetfulness, difficulty concentrating, not to mention an unstable mood . . ."

"Kitt, I get it, buddy. But we still haven't found Henson's trail and we're not slacking off now. If we don't find him, we won't find Lisa. Besides, I've caught a nap here and there. I'll be fine. Just focus on your scanners and tracking down that supplier, okay?" he grouched.

"Okay," I conceded, albeit adversely. There was no sense in arguing the point, even though I wanted to; even though I've already tried from every possible angle. Logic. Reason. Graphs. Bribery. I even hoped Devon would call just to speak some sense into my driver, but nothing worked in convincing Michael to rest.

True, Lisa had been kidnapped and time was of the essence, but there was very little that could be done unless the kidnapper made contact again or I found a beat on Henson's whereabouts; Michael himself said so. As it were, neither outcome had happened as of yet and, thus, Michael insisted on pounding the pavement; going above and beyond what could be reasonably expected to try and grab a hold of any clue he could find. Suffice it to say, we haven't found much on these darkened roadways but his unwavering tenacity was in full form tonight.

In many respects, it was one of his most admirable traits, but, right now, it was downright ridiculous. What good would he be if we did find Lisa? Certainly, a well-rested neophyte would be preferable to the lethargic, temperamental individual sitting in my cabin now—not that I'm comparing Michael to an amateur, of course. I just wish he would listen to good sense from time to time. Is that too much to ask?

"Michael . . ."

"Zip it, Kitt!"

I guess so.

As we traveled further down Sullivan Street, I witnessed Michael's twenty-seventh yawn and began to reflect deeper on the issue. If experience with my friend had taught me anything, it was that he probably felt guilty over Lisa's disappearance. After all, it happened on our watch. In all fairness though, there was little to have been done about the unfortunate affair. Who would have guessed the victim's own sister set up the conditions for the abduction? Even the family was shocked by the turn of events, let alone Michael and myself.

Nevertheless, I knew Michael had the tendency of taking matters like these very personally. It was another one of his characteristics with a double-edged quality. Normally, it fueled him towards the results others would be too detached to reach, but on some occasions, it drained him gravely and left him open to lapses in judgment; open to the possibility of getting hurt.

Currently, he was going over the case files for the seventeenth time, bleary-eyed, and determined to find something he missed. I'll admit, I felt bad when Lisa was taken two days ago and I'm very aware of the shrinking odds of finding her safe and sound with each passing minute but I also had the acumen to know my limitations; something that seemed to elude my partner from time to time.

Be it from sheer doggedness or some kind of guilt-ridden drive, Michael was straining himself needlessly and, most likely, unintentionally. His pulse was irregular, his blood pressure was high and everything from his respiration to his body temperature was off canter. He desperately needed to sleep and, being he was my first priority, it was my responsibility to address that. If only I knew how . . .

"Michael?"

He nearly dropped the folders at the sound of my voice; jumpiness being another sign of heavy fatigue. I observed a brief glare cross his face before it settled into somewhat of a weary allowance.

"Yes?"

"May I suggest dictating the case notes through my context analyzer for you? Perhaps having another perspective might help in uncovering whatever it is you hope to find," I submitted calmly; hopefully. If I couldn't persuade him from the task of sleep deprivation, at least I could assistant in trying to bring this terrible matter to a close. He seemed to be weighing the offer.

"Fine, why not? Set it to factor in Henson's medical history and Michelle's nursing experience too."

"Of course," I said as I complied with his instructions. He straightened his posture a bit as another yawn escaped him. I watched as he engaged the driver's side window switch. Likely an attempt to see if the cold night air would keep him alert.

"Alright, Michael. We know Henson's brother, Donovan, started the Willow Company back in 1963. Donovan asked Henson to help invest in the small pharmaceutical chain from the beginning, but Henson refused on the basis it was too much of a gamble. Over time, the Willow Company did quite well and when it was time to talk shareholders . . ."

"Henson was suddenly interested," Michael added in around another large yawn.

"Exactly," I said, taking inventory of my friend's vital signs again. I've learned over our years working together that he hates when I do that, so, I tend to keep the numbers to myself unless it's necessary to divulge them. Anyway, he was so close to the threshold of slumber it was downright maddening, but instead of giving into the rest he needed, he shifted in his seat again and practically held his eyes open. It was then a thought occurred to me; a dubious thought. What if I dropped the cadence of my vocalization just a smidge and slowed the rhythm of my dictation by a half a second? Grant it, this would make it appear I was reading a bedtime story instead of a report.

Could I really do that? Well, it was late and didn't people tend to talk in quieter tones after dark?

"Right, but when Henson approached Donovan about helping shift Willow into a corporation, Donovan told him he'd have to invest like any other shareholder; no special family privileges," I said as I watched Michael's eyelids droop a bit. It appeared my soft tone may be putting my partner to sleep. I wanted him to sleep. He wanted to stay awake.

I did read somewhere once that complex listening material could be quite stimulating or rather dull. I wonder if it would help in Michael's endeavor to stay awake or not because, honestly, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't try to support him in that effort or help him rest.

"It ought to be acknowledged, Henson was not a singularity among some of his opportunistic family members. There were indeed others who desired to portion out the fortune and affluence fashioned by Donovan's business venture," I finished just as Michael aggressively recovered from a lurch to one side.

"What?!" he responded loudly as his eyes widened from the small slip in consciousness. Mm, I suppose it was running a little too much on the dull side. Let's try this . . .

"Maybe you would hear me better if I closed the window. I'll turn on the AC if you'd like?"

"Huh? Oh, sure. What was the part about Henson not being the only one?" Michael asked as he rubbed a hand over his face while I set the temperature to a cozier degree.

"Right. There was Donovan's nephew from his sister's side, the aunt from Chicago, the sister-in-law married to Donovan's other brother, Lewis, and even Lisa's sister, Michelle, as we all know now," I continued as Michael began to lean again. I didn't want him to slump over, of course, so I slowly inclined the driver's seat back into a more comfortable angle. If it just so happened to be his favorite sleeping position, well . . .

"It appears Henson may have utilized Michelle's position as a nurse to lure Lisa into that trap at the clinic. Knowing Donavon would do anything to save his youngest daughter, Henson seems to have played his hand well. Hiring an outside source to do the kidnapping seems to be his way of not implicating himself and it might work if we can't prove the connection, but if we factor in the medical history . . . Michael?" I asked as his eyes had been closed for a good twenty seconds. He didn't respond.

"Yoo-hoo, Michael?" I stated, trying to rouse my partner while simultaneously dimming the cabin lights. I monitored the silence as his breathing became deeper, his heart rate steady and his muscles relaxed.

He was slipping into the first stages of sleep.

Failure yet Success!

Until I realized . . . oh, no.

If we factor in medical history, Lisa can't be anywhere else but . . .

"At the clinic," Michael mumbled groggily.

_Bloop. Bleep._

The sound of my telephone comlink being engaged filled the cabin causing Michael to instinctively shoot up in his seat. No rest for the weary, I suppose, because of all times, now . . .

"Devon's calling," I stated.

"I know where she is, Devon. We're heading back to Seaside Medical," Michael exclaimed as he resumed manual control.

Adrenaline's there but so was his fatigue. It meant more risk of mistakes in a dangerous situation; more chances of him getting hurt or worse. It meant, now, he wasn't the only one tired.

* * *

_"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest ... Matthew 11:28_


End file.
